"When he found out she was back in town he pestered me for days to find out where she was working."
"And you told him!"
"He got it out of me. I don't even know how. We were talking and suddenly it slipped out. You know how he is, wily as a fox."
"Yes I know how he is and I don't want him around my cousin."
Abruptly Bry decided to make a dash for it. She'd think of a good lie for Helena tomorrow and face the music then. Tonight she had to get home and think. Was it possible that Numbnuts had somehow set this up? From Carl he'd found it where she worked, so it was no accident that she got sent to Leonato's yesterday. That sly, devious little....
Chapter Eight
The plane was de-iced, ready to go. Ben delayed in the lounge overlooking the tarmac, wanting to give her a little extra time. Just in case.
"We'll lose the window if we don't go now, sir," the pilot warned him.
"Ok," he replied reluctantly, scraping splayed fingers back through his hair. So she wasn't coming. He'd made a fool of himself. Get over it, Petruska. Other fish in the sea.
Trouble was, right now, he only wanted that one. He didn't know how long this feeling would last, but it was there and he was doing his best to deal with it, to understand it. He'd wanted things before, of course, but this desire was sharper, crueler. Cut like a knife.
And suddenly there she was, teetering down the hall in her high heels, sunglasses up on her head, one small carry-on over her shoulder, laptop under her arm. He stared at her but kept his smile in check, glad she couldn't hear his heart beat. "You're late Mulligan."
"Had to get through security," she replied, breathless. "They seemed to think I was a suspicious character."
"I bet."
They walked out to the plane and he eyed her small bag.
"That's all you're bringing?"
"It's only two days."
She was not like any other woman he'd ever known, but this was not news. He'd been aware of her unique qualities for years. "Well, if you need anything when we get there, we can buy it." He wanted to buy her lots of things. It was a burning need he had, to see her wearing clothes he'd purchased for her.
Inside the plane he expected her to be impressed, but she quickly sat, crossing her legs, checking her watch and then looking through a small window. "It's almost six. What time do we get there?"
"Three hours."
She was cool and calm now that she'd apparently got her breath back.
Ben dropped into the beige leather chair opposite. "So...did you sign the contract?"
"Not yet." Her blue eyes swept across to him. They were wide, clear, penetrating.
He scowled. "I thought the fact that you came meant that you'd made a decision."
"This is a trial, Mr. Petruska. If I find the position suits me, we can discuss the terms."
"I thought my terms were more than generous."
"That's your opinion."
"What more could you want?" He was offering her enough money to pay off all her student loans and buy an apartment of her own, as well as keep her in designer clothes as long as she was with him.
"It's not about the money, Mr. Petruska."
"But you're an accountant," he quipped. "Isn't it all about the money?"
"You're not hiring me to be your accountant."
"Yes, I am."
She turned her gaze back to the window. "Not just your accountant. Also some sort of slave mistress."
He glared at her. She was wearing a business-like plain white blouse, but unbuttoned almost to her bra. It gave a teasing glimpse of cleavage while also managing to make it look as if it was unintentional. He already had a hard-on. Bryony Mulligan would be the death of him. "Yes," he snapped, terse, "I want you as my mistress." That was how he was handling this need. He'd put it on paper like any other business deal, terms spelled out clearly.
"To fuck you on demand." She arched an eyebrow. "In the unadorned words of the contract."
"Yes." What was wrong with that? It wasn't Shakespeare, but it was to the point. Like him.
"To wear lingerie and clothes only purchased and selected by you. Worn when and as specified."
"Yes."
"To orgasm only with you and... when allowed by you."
"Yes." His erection started to hurt.
"And when we're done, you get approval on all my future boyfriends?"
Yeah, he'd thrown that in at the last minute, just to see how far he could push it.
She sighed, shook her head. "If you want a woman at your beck and call why not get married? I'm sure you have an entire fleet of willing girls ready to step up to the altar."
"Then get divorced and watch her take half of everything I've earned? Nah. I don't want a wife. I want a mistress. Nothing permanent. Nothing messy. Nothing that involved."